Random Battles
by Aphrael1742
Summary: Warhammer 40k and Star Wars one shot


**_Someone wanted a fight between a Space Marine and Vader, so here it is. I think I can safely say that an Astartes has a very good chance of defeating Vader._**

There was never anything interesting happening. The officer did not like that. Behind him was the unnecessarily large space that was the bridge of the ship. The officer was well aware that a ship of this size needed a bridge of certain significance, but, as he always did when dwelling on this particular subject during the long hours of his shift, he wondered if the extra space could not have been used for something a little more useful, like a coffee station. He did not like coffee, but stirring up the brew would have given him something to do.

He turned his attention back to the panel in front of him. The emperor did not pay him to think of ways to make the Empire's ships more efficient. One of the sensors gave out a mournful beeping sound, and immediately the officer sat straighter in his seat. He disliked the sound. His tentative suggestions to change it to a more cheerful bell tone had been met with mirth, and so the depressing tone had stuck. The officer took a closer look at the sensor. It was an unidentified ship, that much was certain, but it was of a design that the officer had never before seen. He swiveled his chair around, and gestured to his superior officer, an important looking man wearing a fancy uniform and a perpetual scowl. The man came striding up to the officer, and crashed to a stop behind him. 'What is it?' he asked in a pompous voice.

'There's an unidentified ship approaching, sir.' The officer managed to control himself just enough not to point imperiously at the panels and let the other man figure out the obvious for himself.

'Is it one of ours?'

'I don't think so.'

'Then blow it up.' The pompous man started to walk away.

'Wait,' the officer called. 'I'm picking something up on the communications channel.'

The large screen that was attached to one whole wall of the bridge lit up. A man with a heavily scarred face appeared on it. He was wearing bulky armor of an alien design, and beside him stood an older man with a face more scarred than the first, with elaborate uniform that was weighed down with countless ornaments. The officer idly wondered if the men had not taken a knife to their own faces to make themselves seem more intimidating. 'You are not of the Imperium,' the first man said in a quiet voice that at once commanded great authority and respect. 'Identify yourselves, or we will open fire.'

The officer's superior took a step forward. His face was livid, and there was a tick on his left cheek that warned of impending danger. 'You dare threaten a ship of the Galactic Empire?' he hissed. The officer winced. Apparently, this meeting would skip right past diplomacy to sudden battle. 'Lord Vader is on board this ship. That is the only identification we need. _You_, however, need to identify yourselves.'

The two scarred men looked at them silently for a long while, then the first man spoke again. 'This Galactic Empire is unknown to us. But you are of Mankind, and so we will subject you to a peaceful meeting. Alert this Lord Vader of yours, and prepare to meet our emissary in an hour.' The image vanished, and the bridge was once again silent. The officer turned to the man beside him.

'Go get Lord Vader,' the man commanded.

The officer shook his head. 'I have to monitor the ship.'

The other man narrowed his eyes. 'Coward,' he spat. Then he abruptly turned and stalked off to fetch their passenger.

Maximus shifted the pauldrons of his armor and continued to the boarding craft that was to be his transport to the strange ship. He turned to the man older man at his side. 'You did not detect any signs of Chaos?'

'You saw what I saw,' the man retorted, 'and you're the Astartes here.'

'Don't feel bad. I don't get to command a whole ship. Just make sure those troops are ready. I don't want to have to wait if they turn out to be tainted.'

The older man nodded. 'I got it. Try not to let this one end in bloodshed.'

Maximus chuckled. 'Don't get your hopes up.'

The boarding craft landed on the ship with a heavy thump that set the transport to vibrating. The pilot turned to look back at his passengers. 'How's that?'

Maximus waved his hand. 'The idea was to give them more than just a small dent to hammer out. Firing up the engines was inspired, however.'

The pilot smirked at him. 'Is your little display of power complete?'

'Not quite.' He leaned back against the inside of the craft. 'Let's wait a few minutes. Are the cameras picking anything up?'

The pilot nodded. 'Have a look.'

Gathered around their craft was what could only be described as an army. 'They don't look so friendly,' Maximus observed.

The pilot snorted. 'You could run through them and not slow down. They don't look so tough.'

Maximus nodded. 'And that one in the black is Vader?'

'I'd guess so. It makes sense, since he's the only one in that crowd not wearing white.'

Maximus ignored him, and turned back to look at the two other Space Marines. Veterans of countless battles on planets that were distant and varied, they stood tall and proud. Their armors bore the scars of those battles, as did their faces, and the pair wore both with enormous dignity. He looked at them questioningly, and they nodded curtly back. Maximus turned back to the screen. The white armored soldiers were starting to show signs of unease, though they were doing their best to hide it. The Space Marine, however, had not rose to the rank he was now at by failing to see the true feelings of any given individual, as much as he would like it to remain hidden. Another man pushed forward to stand beside Maximus. His face was masked by a badly scratched helmet, and in his right hand was a staff. He carried it in a way that showed the staff was more a badge of office than an instrument of support. Cradled in his other arm was an enormous tome. Like the staff, this, too, was a badge of office. And like the staff, the tome could probably level small buildings if it were to be set down in an ungentle fashion. The man stared at the footage they were receiving. Finally he nodded in satisfaction, and turned to join the other two Marines. Maximus waited for a while longer, then he too turned away from the screen and walked to the rear of the craft, stopping to retrieve his bolter along the way. He pushed his way past the other Marines, and nodded to the pilot. There was a grinding sound, and the ramp of the Stormraven crashed to the floor of the alien ship, sending sparks flying from where it struck. The craft shuddered again, and Maximus squared his shoulders. Before him stood the massed ranks of the white armored soldiers, just as they had been displayed through the camera.

With a stately pace, the Space Marines strode down the ramp, looking for all the world as though they had every right to be there. Their boots smashed resoundingly against the metal of the floor, and they took care to roll their shoulders ominously as they ventured forth. With battle hardened gazes they looked out over the small army amassed before them, and found it wanting. The lips of the Marines curled in derision as the army started to show signs of unease. Scorn was plainly evident on their faces as they crashed to a halt a few feet away from the end of the ramp. But the opposing army stood its ground, and Maximus, at least, admired them for it.

'What a pointless display of force,' the librarian muttered.

'They tried,' Maximus replied shortly, and the librarian snorted.

'A massive army is useless when they can only come at us a few at a time, once we are in the middle of them. Unless they plan to shoot their friends in the back.' The librarian shifted his right arm and planted the staff defiantly on the deck. It made a low booming sound that reverberated through the air as the two collided. 'And once our brothers get here, their numbers would be pointless.'

There was a heavy pause as the two groups of soldiers stared at each other across that small intervening distance, and, finally, the black armored man came forward to meet them. Following closely behind him was a score of what Maximus assumed were his guards. The detachment halted a few feet away, and Vader came forward alone. Maximus simply stood there waiting. He hefted his bolter, being certain to make sure that the soldiers had a great view of it. Behind him the other Marines, too, shifted slightly, and there was a general rustle of unease from the other party as they beheld an assortment of heavy and oversized weaponry.

Maximus regarded the man with a lazy gaze that he had long since perfected. In a voice that mirrored his expression, he declared, 'you have the honor of speaking to Captain Maximus of the Ultramarines.'

The man silently regarded him, and the only sound present was the hissing of his breathing. 'I am Lord Vader,' the man finally replied, and the eyes of the Space Marine narrowed.

'You do not sound human, Vader. Unmask yourself.' The guards made a move to lift their weapons at this demand, but Vader made a curt gesture, and they reluctantly settled back down.

'No,' said Vader, and a twitch began to form under Maximus' eye. 'But I have left my humanity behind me.' Maximus tightened his grip about his bolter at these words.

'In the name of the Emperor of all Mankind, unmask yourself,' repeated Maximus through tight lips.

'You shall not utter the Emperor's name thusly,' Vader replied in a tone that expected only subservience, and the guards again readied their weapons.

Like all Marines of his rank, Maximus was a devout man. To be openly defied was one thing, but to be _told_ the proper way to speak the Emperor's name by someone who could be alien or, worse still, Chaos, was yet another. But something told him that there might be a whole other side to this matter, and so, though his sword arm twitched, he stayed his hand. 'Who is the emperor you refer to?'

'The emperor of the Galactic Empire,' was the reply, and Maximus relaxed. Obviously Mankind had spread farther than was previously known, and, though they address the Emperor and the Imperium in a different manner, Maximus harbored hope that they would be able to be taught the proper forms of address, forcibly or otherwise. 'All other empires,' Vader continued then, 'are false. We will, of course, accept your help, but, since you are apparently not of the Galactic Empire, as you have previously stated, you will renounce this emperor of yours and join the Galactic Empire.'

Maximus was not quite as relaxed by then. His lips curled in disgust, and he raised his bolter. 'Heretic,' he snarled.

Vader took a step back. But he was quick to recover from his astonishment, and he moved out of the way. The explosive bolt from Maximus' weapon struck the guard behind him, and the unfortunate man was ripped apart. 'That's it,' Maximus shouted to the other Marines, drawing his sword. 'Cleanse the ship of the heretic filth.'

The bolters of the Marines made short work of the remaining guards, but there was still an army before them. There was a blast of powerful engines behind them, and Maximus risked a look behind him, just in time to see the Stormraven rise off the ground. The pilot took a short moment to position the craft, then its guns burst into action. Scores of the white armored troops were cut down before they even had time to react to this new threat. But they were disciplined, and they quickly fell into rank to lay down a hail of laser fire.

'Get in close!' Maximus shouted, but the other Marines needed no command. They were men with vast experience, and they knew how to engage with the enemy. Bolters spelling out the enemy's doom, the Marines charged at the enemy lines, ignoring the sizzling holes that the laser fire made in their armor. The sound that they made as they crashed into the enemy lines was thunderous. The line folded in on itself, and the Marines pushed onward, and the enemy closed in behind them. The Marines let them close the gap. It was a grim and risky strategy, but it limited the amount of fire that the enemy could direct at them.

'Don't let them close in!' Maximus roared. One of the Marines darkly muttered something under his breath, and Maximus grinned. He swung his sword and cut down a white armored soldier, raised his bolter and blew another apart. Another came at him, brandishing his gun, and Maximus swung a vast overhead blow. The man raised his gun to ward off the blow, but the sword cleft through the weapon, the man's head, and his torso. Maximus kicked the body off his sword, turned to another enemy, and got down to work.

With the other Marines at his side, Maximus sallied forth into the battle, his bolter sowing destruction amongst the enemy, his sword slicing limbs and heads off bodies. Missiles from the Stormraven flew over their heads to explode among the soldiers, showering their comrades with bits of gore. Then the librarian stepped forward. His staff was by his side, and he made no move to attack the enemy forces. Laser fire dissipated on his armor, and yet he continued standing there. Then he raised his staff, and levelled it at the enemy troops. 'Burn, heretics,' he uttered in a voice of thunder, and lightning burst forth from the staff. The bolts of energy struck at the enemy soldiers, and there were screams and cries of pain as the soldiers writhed about in agony before falling to their knees. Their white armor blackened and smoke rose from the gaps between the pieces, and they soon fell silent. Again and again the librarian called upon the lightning, and each time scores of the enemy perished, and the stench of charred flesh hung heavily in the air. Then the air turned heavy, and a volley of missiles erupted among the enemy forces, and fire and smoke and the cries of the wounded and dying burst forth from between the white armored troops and for a moment Maximus could not quite make out what was happening amidst the thick smoke. Quite suddenly Maximus found that there were Ultramarines all around as more transports flew into the hangar, their heavy engines setting the air to reverberating.

There was a humming from his side, and Maximus swung his sword about just as a red blade descended upon him, and he found himself face to face with the helmet of Vader. 'Rebel,' the man hissed, and pressed in with his blade. There was a sizzling sound as the energies of their blades collided, and the two men stood there, their swords locked, each straining to throw the other off.

But Maximus was a member of the Adeptus Astartes, and that was all the advantage he needed. He casually flicked aside Vader's attempts to overpower him, and went at the other man with a pounding in his veins that he was so used to. Vader was quick, and Maximus admired his skill. But Vader was too showy in his swordplay, as though his training had made him overconfident in his own skills. Moreover, Maximus was a veteran of countless battles spanning across hundreds of years and thousands of planets, and along the way he had picked up numerous dirty tricks, and Maximus soon found the rhythm to his opponent's attacks. Then, with feints and thrusts and an occasional fist to the face, it was but an easy task to chip away at the man's defenses. If it were not for his speed, Maximus was sure that the man would have died on his sword quite a while ago. Then Vader came in close, initiating a flurry of strikes so quick his blade was almost a blur, but Maximus was able to fend them off, and once again the Space Marine found himself locked in the same struggle that had started the duel. But Maximus had enough, and raised his left hand, his bolter aimed right at Vader's helmeted head. The other man, however, apparently had the same idea. His hand came up before Maximus could pull the trigger, and Maximus suddenly found himself several feet above the floor, unable to move his muscles. Black spots began to appear before his eyes as air was abruptly cut off. But Maximus was a captain of the Ultramarines, and such trickery could not keep him down for long. His grip tightened about his sword, and suddenly Vader found himself unable to contain his opponent. Maximus raised his eyes to look squarely into the visor of the other man. 'The Emperor protects.' Maximus growled, and Vader's containment field collapsed. Maximus raised his sword and, taking a deep breath, he bellowed, 'for the Emperor!', and, with that, he charged at Vader.

The black armored man, Maximus was quite sure, was unprepared for the charge. Maximus' sword came descending down toward him, and he hastily raised his own blade. His strength, however, was woefully insufficient, and Maximus' blade was stopped only a few inches away from Vader's head. Maximus forced the sword down, and Vader struggled to keep it away from him. The two men reeled about as they pounded at each other in a series of quick strikes and parries. Then Maximus got in close and slammed his forehead into the other man's head, and a great dent appeared in his black helmet. Vader stumbled back, and, for a single crucial moment, his energy blade dipped to leave himself exposed. With a stride and a lunge, Maximus closed the intervening distance between them, and thrust with his sword. A shudder ran down the length of his blade as his sword pierced Vader to stick out of the man's back. Vader hissed, and attempted to raise his sword, but the strength quite suddenly left his fingers, and the glowing blade fell out of his grasp, and it hit the ground, the red energy flickering out. His hands came up to claw weakly at the sword in his chest.

'I send you to face your judgment, heretic,' Maximus growled, then he pulled his sword out of the man, and, raising it, he swung the blade down, and with one stroke sent Vader's head flying to land wetly ten paces away.

A deep groan rose from the white armored soldiers as their leader fell, and some attempted to retreat. But the Space Marines were unforgiving, and they continued their assault. Bolters cracked all around, and the cries and screams of agony that arose from the enemy ranks mingled with the gunfire to the point of being deafening. Maximus looked around him. The Space Marines had pushed far into the ship, and the metal of the floor soon grew slippery with the mutilated bodies of the enemy soldiers. Maximus stopped at one such body, considerably more intact than the others, and reached down to pull the helmet off. The man did not look tainted, but Maximus was not too sure. He raised his bolter, and fired at the man's head.

There were only a few pockets of resistance in secluded areas of the ship when the members of the Adeptus Mechanicus came aboard the ship. Their robotic eyes clicked and whirled as they rotated, aiding their organic counterparts in taking in the space of the ship. Their gazes swept over the scorches and piles of bodies that marked the ferocity of the battle, and their faces remained stony as they beheld the bits of gore decorating the walls on either side. Unflinchingly, they strode deeper into the ship, leaving in their trail a whole mess of bloody boot prints. Now and again one would stop to kick a decapitated limb or mutilated body out of the way while his devices beeped as they scanned the surroundings.

Maximus, planting his bulk in a corner, silently watched them from a distance. Then he turned and boarded one of the transports. There was nothing left for him to do here. The craft left the hangar, and, at a distance that was surprisingly close, Maximus saw the Astartes ship shift into position. Grimly, Maximus watched its ponderous movements. As soon as the Imperial forces leave the ship, he knew, the Astartes ship would start shooting. For some reason the thought cheered him up, and, under his helmet, his expression shifted into a stiff smile as the craft left the doomed ship of the heretic forces behind it.


End file.
